


See You Soon

by chardonnott



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on a song, Character Death, Cried writing this, F/M, Holding Hands, Not my best, St Mungo's Hospital, Tragedy, You might cry, im sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 16:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chardonnott/pseuds/chardonnott
Summary: And so their fingers squeeze and entwine with each other as the palms of their hands stick together.Because there's no way they'll let go.Not yet.They can't.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	See You Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on a song.
> 
> Heart Like Yours by Willamette Stone.
> 
> I'm sorry in advance, I cried while writing this. I have an emotional pain kink, give me a break.

~*~

She holds on to him with all her strength.

All that she has— and it's not a lot— but she does anyway.

She fears if she lets go— if it slackens in any way— she'll disappear and that'll be that. So she doesn't and she keeps him in her hand willing to let her fingers go numb.

Because Hermione Granger isn't ready to die yet.

She doesn't want to go. She doesn't want to leave him.

But as she lays on the uncomfortable hospital bed in St. Mungos, surrounded by white walls and a darkening eerie glow, she’s gripping on to life. Covered in a white gown and listening to whirring sounds of the diagnostic charms working around her.

Then— to the left her— the love of her life is sitting on a small armchair, hunched over her bed and begging for her to stay without the words leaving his lips.

He’s trying his hardest to hold back his tears as he holds her hand. She can see this— so clearly. His struggle, his pain— the way she knows he would do anything to have even just one more full day with her. But the Healers told them she most likely won’t last the night— if that. And so their fingers squeeze and entwine with each other and the palms of their hands stick together.

There's no way they'll let go.

Not yet.

They can't.

She’s clinging on to the last of her existence. She’s weak, brittle, and so very fragile. As if she could break at any second— one tap and she could shatter into a million pieces. Crawling her way through each heavy breath, desperate to reach her lungs as they inflate inside their cage. Each strangled, dry cough coursing through her chest and throat— scratching its way out and echoing with the hoarse sound. She’s attempting to block out the beep in her ear as she does, knowing that it’s slowing down and soon will be no more. Wanting to ignore the ache she feels in her bones and soul as she silently screams in pain. Wanting to writhe on her sheets as the torture ripples through her over and over again.

And finally, as if things couldn’t get any worse, there’s the loss of warmth on her skin while feeling his own wrapped around her small hands.

But despite the physical agony that she's enduring— there's nothing, absolutely _nothing_ that compares to the pain she feels, looking at him as he sits there. So much so, this could kill her alone.

It's a splinter growing to a crack more harmful than any illness. It's opening wider and she's breaking in half with it.

Because he doesn’t deserve this.

Draco Malfoy doesn’t deserve to watch her die when he has so much more life to live.

Sitting right there— next to her, like he always has been throughout this and just having to watch.

He’s hardly left her side for the past three months, from the moment they first noticed, to this very second on the ticking countdown of a clock. And when he does leave, it’s only for mere minutes at a time before he rushes back and sits in his pathetic, little armchair again. But, with each prolonged blink of her eyes— he's moving further away from her and fading into the distance. And the minutes he’s gone feel longer and more like hours. 

Her arm is being stretched and pulled and she’s trying her very hardest to keep him within her reach. But gradually, he’s disappearing— just like herself.

So she tries not to blink. To keep time on her side with this.

Because the fear of blinking for the last time is overwhelming her— controlling her to keep her eyes open for as long as she can. When the darkness behind her eyelids will be all that’s left and all she can see is something so terrifying she can’t even comprehend it. Where she's dragged into the nothingness— engulfing her and making her feel all the same.

She doesn’t know what to expect when this happens, she has never put much thought into it. Maybe it was her being scared of the day she’d find out and she always hoped it would be far into her old years after living a long and healthy life. But now— now that it’s really happening— in the written tragedy of her young life cut short— it’s only a matter of time till it does. 

And she knows she doesn’t want it.

Not when she can't fathom anything other than being with him. 

They're both so young— have so much planned. Lives they want to live— together.

So she looks at him, studies him, memorises him, her head tilted to the left. She hopes that maybe —when she goes to wherever it’ll be— there will be some version of him with her, always holding onto her hand. So if she remembers each detail of his face, every inch of his mind, body and soul that she nearly shares with him, it could be a form of heaven as long as he’s still by her side. 

It’s what she hopes for, what she's begging for.

She may even consider praying.

In the process of drawing him out —from memory and how he looks next to her— she starts at the top. Just managing to keep her eyes focused.

His hair; a pale blond that doesn’t shine as brightly as it used to. She paints the knotted mess carefully in her mind from when his fingers have spent too much time curled amongst the strands as Healers give him more pieces of bad news. Hairs hanging loosely over his forehead that rests in his palm, exhausted and weary. Tiredness that can almost equal insanity by this point. But he refuses to rest, it’s a waste of time to him now.

His grey eyes— now bloodshot and puffy. Purple and bruise-like rings underneath them that she knows are there and has seen develop. All from sleepless nights worrying that if he closes his eyes too, she’ll go and he won't get to say another goodbye. 

There's no light or life in his expression anymore either, she can’t see the pink tint in his cheeks. No sparkle in his eyes or glimmer in his smile. He’s fading as quickly as she’s deteriorating. And no matter how much he tries to fake his way through it, telling her he’ll be okay— they’ll be okay. That they’ll get through this and how she’s not leaving him yet— she knows he’s breaking. 

His façade. His smile. Trying to find some hope in everything. But deep down —because she knows him— there’s doubt and despair within him. He doesn’t believe a word he’s saying, they both know it. 

She curses herself for ever adding some optimism to his life back when she did. Because before her, he was a cynical, pessimist who didn't believe there was any good in the world. But when they collided again on their separate paths after a couple of years, it led to something unexpected but beautiful. And so bit by bit he changed. He told her it was because of her, that she gave him that new perspective— new things to look forward to. 

She does wish sometimes that he was still the pessimist she fell in love with all those years ago.

Maybe that would make leaving him easier.

That man wouldn't try and tell himself she was going to be okay. He wouldn't believe she was going to be here come morning light. He wouldn’t plaster a smile on his face to put on a show. Yes, he would argue till he lost his breath and voice, fight till he could no more. And she knows for sure that man would do the same in making sure she could stay in his hands for longer. But in time, he would’ve accepted their untimely departure.

He wouldn’t be lying to himself.

Knowing there’s nothing they can do.

She isn’t being a defeatist herself, it’s just the simple, albeit awful, reality they’re facing. She's come to terms with it.

But at least they’re facing it together— like they have done with so many things before. Always holding onto each other's hands.

She swallows mid-thought, but it's tough and she chokes.

She can feel her eyes stinging, blurring.

She wants to blink.

She wants to sleep.

With one more ounce of strength— because she can’t bear to talk anymore— she gives him another squeeze, light and faint but he feels it and he lifts his head.

It’s her way of telling him to look at her, she needs to see his eyes again. It could be the last time.

“Hermione.” He almost sobs when their eyes connect, he can see it too.

Both his hands close tighter around her own hand— the one that’s closest to him on the hospital bed. She looks at them both— at where they’re physically connected and a small but weak smile appears on her lips before her chest heaves in a desperate inhale. 

She sees his eyes brimming, his lips parting and quivering.

“Please, breathe. You— you have to breathe.”

She watches him swallow sharply and his throat is bobbing with each one. She tries to follow instruction, she tries, she truly does but her lungs are giving away. They’ve lost hope.

“I’m right here,” he continues, his voice like a melody. “Please, I’m right here. Okay?” He gives her another squeeze and she can make out the urgency in his voice as he sings. “Stay strong, please, Hermione.”

She wants to tell him again, she wants to express. She doesn’t feel like she's told him enough or said everything she needs to. Because surely there’s more to be said, more to be done. More time to have together and to fulfil the plans they made before they found out. 

She attempts a deep breath. 

“I— I’m—”

But she can’t, she’s failing. Nothing falling from her lips, no matter how much she forces them to move. So she gives up, and she hopes he knows. 

He nods. “Don’t talk, it’s okay. I know.”

She barely nods herself, relief washing over her.

“I’m right here. I know.” She sees him force another smile. “I want you to know though, that I’ll always be waiting for you, okay? And I’ll— I’ll see you soon.” He falters as he speaks and she watches him collapse, dropping his head to their hands. Her fingers lift slightly and touch his hair and caress his cheek.

He’s getting further away from her.

Her eyes are growing heavier. 

“Look, I’ve probably said this before, but I need to tell you again. I will never understand why you chose me,” she hears him say as he rises to meet her again. “But— but you did and although I don’t see how a heart like yours could ever love a heart like mine, I want to say thank you. You opened my eyes,” he cracks, his voice shakes. “You’re more than I ever could deserve. I wasn’t living before I met you, but these past few years— they’ve— they’ve been— well you know.”

He gulps and she smiles through the break she feels in her chest. She nods to him again as tears fall down her cheeks.

“Okay? So if now— if now’s really the time,” another quiet sob leaves him as he talks. “Then please, don’t stay for me, sleep. I won’t make you stay any longer. I’ll be okay.”

She studies him again, with seconds left.

His hair, his eyes, his cheeks and the smile he’s faking.

But she realises that this isn’t the version of him she wants to remember, she wants to take the real Draco with her. The one who had a real smile she’d never forget. The one she’s seen so often during their time together. 

So instead she draws him as that boy who turned into a man, how he used to look when they were both so happy together. Before their world unravelled and caved in on them.

She recalls their first real date and how he kissed her on the doorstep of her old apartment for the first time. When he smiled at her, with his genuine shine and when the sparkle was still there in his eyes as he walked away— promising another night just like the one they had. And he lived up to it, of course. They had a second, third, fourth and fifth date plus countless more that were all just as perfect.

Perfect, because they were together, hand in hand the entire time. 

That's the Draco she wants to see when she goes.

She thinks about the nights they spent together wrapped up in twisted sheets and filling the rooms with music. How he looked when he called her beautiful and said he was never letting her go.

To the first thing at the break of dawn when the sun would seep through the curtains of their bedroom. When they’d wake up and their limbs were tangled together, his fingers stroking down her back, her own in his hair. When he placed delicate kisses along her cheeks and down her neck, nipping slightly and waiting to hear her laugh. 

She remembers how euphoric she felt every time. How blissfully happy and unaware they were of what was to come.

That was and still is heaven on earth to her, being with him amongst the sheets of their bed. Being with him, touching him, kissing him. If where she’s going— where she’s about to end up— is anything like that, then maybe she’ll be okay. As long as he’s there too, looking like he did those mornings and nights, glowing brightly, radiating joy.

Her lungs cry lethargically again and she feels a stab. The clock is ticking.

She stares at him some more, still next to her in his armchair and she imagines the time he took her to the old wooden pier on the lake. The sun was setting in the distance that evening and pinks, oranges and purples were reflecting on the still water around them. She can see it so clearly, a light summer breeze in the air and the creek of the wooden planks beneath them. When he smiled with tears in his eyes, kneeling down on one knee before asking if she would spend the rest of her life with him.

That's another version of him she wants to keep. It’s only tainted by how they didn’t know then— that the rest of her life wouldn’t be the rest of his. But she ignores that, she doesn't want to keep that thought.

Finally, her mind travels to the time they held each other’s hands and beamed with elation, promising to love and cherish each other, through sickness and health. Till death do they part. At least they kept their vows, they just weren't aware of how short they would last. Could almost be seen as hilarious as it drips in irony. But again, she chooses to ignore that and only remembers the light.

She just wishes and hopes it was enough. That what time they did have together was worth it.

Now he’s drawn out in front of her. How she wants him to be, on a piece of parchment paper she holds close to her heart as she slips away.

She hears him speak, and it's a heavenly lullaby.

There's a final glance before darkness takes over.

And it's as easy as falling asleep. 

Where dreams dance and all she can see are faint images of their hands together through their lives. Her parents, her friends, the school she once attended. Magic circling her and filling her world with wonder.

Then a flash of light.

Her eyes peer up to a ceiling with intricate crown mouldings. 

Fingers entwined above her, her arm stretched out and playing in the distinct sun rays shining around the room she's now in.

An arm under her neck, her leg over another. Warmth surrounding her.

Cream silk beneath her back and delicately across her body.

And a quiet whisper of words in her ear. Musically beautiful.

“Good morning.”

She feels the touch of soft lips on her cheek.

“I said I’d see you soon.”

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hate me, I hate me too.


End file.
